


Heat of the Moment

by tiredandjaded (CallingVersatile)



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Accidental Flirting, Best Friends to Lovers, Confident Willow Supremacy, F/F, Fluff, High School AU, Human AU/No Magic, Kissing Practice, Lesbian Disaster Amity Blight, Slightly Less Disastrous Lesbian Willow Park, That Specific Feeling of Hanging Out in a Too-Hot Bedroom Killing Time With Your Best Friend, Unreasonable Amounts of Banter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29862708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallingVersatile/pseuds/tiredandjaded
Summary: Amity Blight, valedictorian, rugby star, and budding young socialite had a problem. A huge problem, one that not even an efficient, capable, ruthless problem-solver such as herself could figure out. And her best friend was, of course, proving to be absolutely zero help.“It’s actually hilarious how much of a flustered lesbian disaster you turn into when it comes to Luz,” Willow said drily. “You know the underclassmen think you’re like, this untouchable badass?”or,Amity's never kissed someone before. Willow has. If she wants to avoid making a complete fool of herself on Prom night, well... practice makes perfect, right?
Relationships: Amity Blight/Willow Park
Comments: 26
Kudos: 50





	Heat of the Moment

“Like, it wouldn’t be so—it wouldn’t bother me if I just knew what I was doing! Willow, you know how much I hate going into something blind.” Amity buried her face in her hands and groaned. “I’m gonna fuck it all up!” 

Willow, who was laying on her back on Amity’s massive bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it struggled to make so much as a dent in the oppressive heat of the room, snorted. 

Amity Blight, valedictorian, rugby star, and budding young socialite had a problem. A huge problem, one that not even an efficient, capable, ruthless problem-solver such as herself could figure out. And her best friend was, of course, proving to be absolutely zero help.

“It’s actually hilarious how much of a flustered lesbian disaster you turn into when it comes to Luz,” Willow said drily. “You know the underclassmen think you’re like, this untouchable badass?” 

Amity shot her friend a murderous look, only somewhat undermined by the flush in her cheeks. 

“Thanks, Willow,” she grumbled. “That’s super helpful, Willow.” 

“I’m a wellspring of wisdom, what can I say.” Willow turned onto her side, leaning on an elbow and propping her head up to look at Amity, who spun despondently in her desk chair. As the chair came to a halt, she stuck out a foot and kicked off halfheartedly against her desk, starting another lazy revolution. 

“Maybe I should just forget it… I mean, who really cares about junior prom, right?” (Amity. Amity cared about junior prom). “I can just… ask her next year!” Yeesh. That sounded even more pathetic out loud than it had in her head. 

“Listen, everyone’s first kiss is weird and awkward.” 

_“Really not helping me here-”_

“Hey—I’m about to save your gay ass, so I get to make fun of you a bit first.” 

“…Go on.” 

Willow actually sat up from the bed now. She made grabby hands at Amity's water glass—Amity rolled her eyes, but scooped it off her desk. The ice cubes had melted in minutes, leaving gross perspiration on the outside that dripped onto Amity's knees as she rolled her chair over to the bed and handed the glass to a pleased Willow. 

She drained the glass in seconds (rude) and placed it precariously on Amity's headboard before clearing her throat. Amity feigned nonchalance, but her curiosity was piqued—Willow, when she wasn't making fun of Amity's overwhelming gayness around a certain mutual friend, was smart, dependable, and had the sort of common sense that eluded Amity. 

"So, look. Everyone's first kiss is fumbling and awkward. And I _know_ that doesn't help you, so don't interrupt," Willow said pointedly. Amity closed her mouth. 

"So if your first kiss is always gonna be awkward, why not get it out of the way beforehand? That way you won't be freaking out about your lack of experience when you dip Luz dramatically during a slow dance with a rose between your teeth, or whatever it is you fantasize about." 

"I do not fantasize about—that!" Amity spluttered. There usually wasn't a rose involved, and besides—wait. 

"Wait, hold on." Amity stared at Willow like her friend had grown a second head. "Are you saying I should like… go and… pick up some girl at a party and make out with her?" The latter half of that sentence came out as an avalanche of words; Amity's ears already felt hot by the time she had finished speaking, so it really didn't help when Willow burst out laughing. 

Amity wondered if she could roll her chair across the room hard enough to fling herself out the window. 

"Sorry! I'm sorry, Ami, really. I'm not making fun of you, promise, just"—Willow snorted, clearly trying to stifle another bout of laughter. "Pick up a girl? God, now I really want to know how you think that works." 

"Willow!" Amity's face was on fire at this point. There were definitely upsides to having a best friend who knew about your debilitating crush. This was not one of them. 

"Okay, okay! I'm done." Willow schooled her face into something resembling seriousness, and patted the bed next to her. 

_This idea had better be worth it._

The springs creaked as Amity sat down next to her friend. She waited expectantly for Willow to explain what exactly she had meant, if not… _that._

"…like, do you think there's just parties happening all the time, cuz I haven't been getting invi—"

"Willow!" 

"Sorry! I'm done for real now, put the pillow down!" 

Amity lowered her weapon—it was far too hot to be swinging a pillow around, and maybe there was some small part of her that secretly enjoyed Willow’s teasing. Even if it was devastatingly accurate and had a tendency to make her blush, unlike some people, Willow never took it too far. 

“So… what, then?” 

“Right.” Willow pulled her phone out and unlocked it in one smooth motion, looking down at the screen as she spoke. “Obviously I’m not saying you should go find some random girl—this is supposed to be a solution to make you _less_ anxious, not more. I know you better than that, Ami.” 

“Obviously,” Amity said, as if that didn’t still feel like a miracle on her darker days. Sometimes it felt like Willow knew Amity better than she knew herself. 

“But…” Willow trailed off, which was unusual in and of itself. Amity turned to look curiously at her friend. She was still staring down at her phone, nibbling her lip, something like indecision written on her face—Amity was about to ask what was up when Willow clicked her phone off and turned to face Amity. 

“Well, I’m right here. If you wanted to… you know,” Willow said, her cheeks flushing in a way Amity was starting to think wasn’t just the heat, “practice with me?” 

“You—want me to kiss you?” Someone else must have said that, because Amity’s voice was _not_ that high and tinny. Blood rushed to her face, almost like—well, almost like when Luz did something particularly enchanting, but that was silly, because this was _Willow._ It was probably just the sweltering temperature of the room, brought on by a heat wave that was causing even the central air of the Blight mansion to struggle, that was making Amity feel like her clothes were sticking to her body.

“Only if you want,” Willow said with a shrug, somehow regaining her cool demeanor even as Amity’s head spun. “I’m not, like, an expert, but it wouldn’t be my first kiss. If you try it out with me, maybe it’ll get through to you that you won’t melt into dust like the wicked witch of the west if Luz goes in for a smooch on prom night.” 

“Okay, one, it’s a perfectly normal thing to be nervous about!” Amity shot back automatically. “Also, the Wicked Witch of the West didn’t melt into dust.” Yes, focus on the important part of that sentence, not the part where her best friend offered to kiss her. Be kissed by her? 

“Of course you would correct me on that,” Willow said with a teasing grin. “You are _such_ a dork.” Amity tried to scowl, but she was fighting a smile of her own despite herself. “Really, though, it was just an idea. If it weirds you out, or you wanna save your first kiss for Luz, we can just pretend I never brought it up.” Willow checked her phone again, like she had just made some casual statement on the weather, and suddenly Amity had to actually think about this. 

_This_ being kissing her best friend, who was sitting on the bed not a foot away from her. Who she’d shared countless late night calls with, struggling to keep laughter down while half-delirious with sleepless mania. Who Amity had come out to when she was 15, who she dragged with her to see horror movies, who she got celebration sushi with when they both aced their tests… 

The thing was, it made sense. Amity knew how in her own head she got about—well, about Luz, but also about not knowing the right way to do things. Especially things that contained some public, social element—the idea of being in a climactic romantic moment, surrounded by her peers on Prom night, and proving herself to be a total fool made her soul shudder. 

But Willow…Willow was safe. Willow had seen Amity at her worst and somehow found it in herself to give her a second chance, a chance that had bloomed into a level of trust that still floored her to this day. Amity could be as awkward or dorky as she wanted, and it would never be turned against her—Willow’s teasing always carried a warmth to it that made something inside Amity light up like a christmas tree. 

Even if Amity sucked at kissing, Willow wouldn’t be _mean_ about it. Sure, she’d probably poke fun at her a bit, with that stupid lazy grin that made Amity feel like she was in on the joke even when she was the subject of it—but then maybe the smirk would drop, and something in her eyes would soften and she’d lean in and say, more gently this time, _no, silly, like this,_ and— 

“It won’t… make things weird between us?” Amity asked before she could stop herself. She was hesitant, half in disbelief that this could even be happening. It was as if she had been plunged into a dream, the logic upon which Amity had built the foundation of her world tilted to the side and given a good shake, but… not in a bad way. 

“Nah,” Willow replied easily. “At least, I don’t see why it should. It’s just practice, right?” 

“Yeah,” Amity echoed, finding her confidence in Willow’s familiar nonchalance. “Practice.” That was something that made sense to her. Practice was how she gave class presentations without a single stutter or misstep, it was how she kept her position as the star of the rugby team. It was the reason Amity could do mockup AP Lit essays in her sleep. This would just be like… reviewing her materials before an exam.

Except instead of dry essay prompts on the historical significance of the silk road, her materials were her best friend. Who was sitting in her room, alone, about a foot away from her on her bed. In a low cut tank top and athletic shorts that showed off just how toned her thighs were after two years on the volleyball team. 

Not that Amity was looking. It was just a thing you noticed after spending so much time with someone. 

“So, uh. What… should I do?” Amity asked, trying not to hate how unsure she sounded. This was the point, she reminded herself. She could be unsure here. Willow would catch her if she fell, with a teasing smile that carried no real judgement and the perfect words of reassurance to pull Amity out of a spiral. 

“Well, you could stop perching on the edge of the bed and get over here.” Willow had scooted over to the center of Amity’s bed and was now shaking out her hair, pulling an elastic off her wrist to collect the tangled strands into something resembling a ponytail. 

“I do not _perch_ ,” Amity grumbled, but she pulled her legs up onto the bed anyways and awkwardly shuffled on her knees towards her friend. Even the soft cotton of her comforter seemed to have soaked up the heat that had permeated their entire town for the last week; it felt warm to the touch when Amity sat down, folding her legs beneath her. 

“Like a nervous housecat,” Willow said. “Ready to bolt if you hear the front door slam.” 

“Can’t believe I put up with this in my own home,” Amity muttered under her breath—although, truth be told, Willow’s nonsense was a bit of an anchor in an otherwise unfamiliar situation. “Also, I’m not nervous.” 

“Really?” Willow asked. The teasing lilt to her voice was gone, and when Amity met her eyes, there was a hint of vulnerability there that would have been imperceptible to anyone but her. “I’m a little nervous.” She hesitated. “I’ve never kissed my best friend before.” 

Somehow, the knowledge that Amity wasn’t alone in her trepidation cut her tension in half instantly; she slumped back against her pillows in relief.

“Okay, yeah,” she admitted, “maybe I’m a bit nervous. I’ve never kissed my best friend, either, you know.” 

“Don’t worry, Ami, I don’t bite,” Willow said slyly, the mischievous glint in her eye promising trouble that Amity knew for a fact she wouldn’t be able to resist. “Unless you—” 

Willow’s mouth snapped shut so quickly, Amity was surprised she didn’t hear a click, and she was treated to a sight that had become increasingly rare as her friend had found her sly, self assured confidence over the past few years. A distinct red flush that started in Willow’s cheeks and spread over the bridge of her nose, unmistakable for the heat, coupled with a subtle widening of forest green eyes that spelled her loss of composure. 

Amity would blame on the temperature the fact that it took her a full second to piece together what could have caused such a reaction from her friend. She wished she could say she shot back with some clever, friendly-yet-snarky jab that would finally turn the tables and leave Willow speechless for once. 

Unfortunately, Amity did nothing of the sort, instead letting out an unintentional squeak that she would viciously deny ever producing as her friend’s unfinished sentence completed itself in her mind. 

_Unless you ask me nicely._

The fact that she could perfectly imagine it in Willow’s smooth, teasing drawl _really_ didn’t help, Amity reflected as she examined the minimalistic floral pattern of her comforter, her face glowing with heat. Her only saving grace was that Willow seemed to be caught just as off-guard by… whatever _that_ had been as Amity was. 

The silence stretched out between them for several unbearable seconds. Amity did manage to find it in her to shoot a glance over at Willow again, though seeing the blush that still dusted her friend’s cheeks was, for some reason, entirely unhelpful. Amity waited a second more, desperately hoping that Willow would be the one to break the awkward silence, before deciding that she would have to take matters into her own hands. 

“So—” 

“I-” 

Two voices overlapped with one another, both girls pausing reflexively to allow the other to continue, which prompted another, shorter silence. 

“You—”

“No—” 

And _that_ managed to shatter any tension lingering between them. Willow snorted, which caused Amity to let out a rather undignified, spluttering laugh of her own, which in turn spurred Willow into full on laughter. 

“Willow, I think we might be lame as hell,” Amity said once they had both recovered.

“Eh.” Willow shrugged. “We make it look good.” 

The pause in conversation that followed this time was easy and comfortable. Willow leaned back against the headboard and its generous mountain of pillows and checked her phone again. She was the picture of patience, which Amity was grateful for as she tried to make up her mind. 

In the end, it was a pretty easy choice to make. 

"Willow Park," Amity said, putting on a vaguely posh accent and holding a hand out to a bemused Willow, "would you do me the honor of being my first kiss, so that I may avoid making an absolute fool of myself at prom?" 

"Why Miss Amity, it would be my delight." 

Willow accepted Amity’s outstretched hand and allowed herself to be pulled up from her inclined position, an easy smile gracing her features. She was pretty. Like, really pretty. And it’s not like Amity had never noticed that before; but maybe she hadn’t quite allowed herself to think about what that _meant,_ because it had never affected her like this before, either. With Willow sitting close enough to her for their knees to touch, it was impossible not to notice the warmth that glittered in those forest green eyes, or—as Amity’s gaze flickered down for one dangerous moment—how soft her lips looked. 

“So, you gonna kiss me or what?” 

Amity startled, dropped Willow’s hand, and _then_ registered the words that had just been said to her. A stunning performance all around. 

“Me?” she sputtered. “You’re the one who knows how this works!” 

“Sure, but I’m not the one looking to practice,” Willow countered. “This is supposed to be for you to figure out, isn’t it?” 

“I mean—yeah, but…” _Can’t you go first?_ Was Amity’s ridiculous next thought. That was also _not_ the kind of thing she could just go and ask, so she was going to have to deal with it. Willow must have sensed her discomfort; her eyes softened and she gave Amity a reassuring smile. 

“It’s okay, Ami. You’re not getting a grade on this. It’s just practice.” 

It probably said _something_ about Amity that it was the words “you’re not getting a grade on this” that caused a serious knot of tension to loosen from her chest, but that could be examined another time. For now, she would just be grateful that she was somehow lucky enough to have a best friend who always knew the perfect way to calm her down.

All that was left was for Amity to, you know, do the damn thing. She wasn't sure where to put her hands, her palms having become increasingly sweaty, and ended up planting them on her knees. God, was she blushing? Stupid question, of course she was blushing. Amity leaned in… and stopped. 

"Could you close your eyes?" She couldn't really say why she was whispering, just that it felt right. Willow, bless her, didn't even question it, and Amity was left to marvel, not for the first time, at the massive amount of trust the other girl put in her. 

Well. It wouldn't do to keep her waiting, would it? Amity steeled her nerves, took a quick, shallow breath, and kissed her. 

Or she tried to, anyways. As she leaned in, Amity, still supporting her weight via hands rested on her own knees, nearly lost balance. She was close enough to count the individual lashes on her friend's face when her nose bumped against Willow's, sending heat roaring to the surface of her skin, and Amity ended up planting a feather-light kiss that lasted about a quarter of a second on the corner of Willow's mouth before jolting back like she'd been electrified. 

Did they offer political asylum for girls who are utterly incapable of romance? Amity would have to look into it. Her face burned, and she was acutely aware of every point of perspiration where her legs were folded beneath her. 

Willow was blinking in confusion, and Amity kind of wanted to curl up and disappear—but before she could sink fully into mortified despair, Willow smiled at her. Not even the teasing smirk that Amity pretended to be annoyed by but secretly adored, but a genuine, almost bashful smile complemented by a light blush that cut straight through Amity's shame and left her staring. 

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Willow prompted. "I mean, I'd recommend kissing Luz for longer than that, but still. You wanna try again?" 

_Try again?_

“Willow, that was terrible! I have no idea what I’m doing!” Willow was still way too close, but she just rolled her eyes like Amity hadn’t utterly embarrassed herself mere moments ago. 

“Yeah, and this is how you learn,” Willow said, offering Amity another patient smile—except this time, it did nothing to slow Amity’s racing heartbeat. If anything, it made it worse. 

Amity couldn’t just wing it—that might have been Luz’s style, but it wasn’t hers. Screw what she had thought earlier. Maybe it was weird to ask this, but Willow already thought Amity was weird for giving away her pickled ginger, or wearing socks to bed. She could live with weird. 

“Could you… show me? Just once, so I know what to do.” 

“I mean, if that would make it easier…” Willow shrugged. “You sure?” 

_“Yes,”_ Amity said, immediately and with _far_ too much enthusiasm, before backpedaling immediately. “I just mean—for practice reasons, not like… I’m gonna shut up now.” Willow giggled, and Amity’s stomach did a flip. 

“Watch and learn, Blight.” 

It was with utterly unreasonable grace that Willow leaned in to kiss her. She tilted her head ever so slightly to the side, something flickering in her half-lidded eyes that Amity had never seen before. When she placed a hand on Amity’s thigh to support herself, it burned like a firebrand—Willow wasn’t grabbing her or anything like that, but the firm press of her fingers into Amity’s thigh was filling her head with static. 

And then Willow was kissing her, soft lips pressed against her own—not firm or chasing, giving her a chance to turn away if she wanted. Something fluttered in Amity’s chest, it felt like someone had taken a scoop out of her heart, but… in a good way, somehow. Amity’s first real kiss wasn’t butterflies and fireworks, it was warm, calloused hands and smooth lips, the easy familiarity of someone who knew her as well as she knew herself. It was the dry heat that blanketed the room, a slice of the endless summers that had brought them together again. 

It was about two seconds of perfection, before Amity realized she had no idea what to do with her hands. They were just _sitting there_ at her sides limply—was she supposed to touch Willow? She started to raise them, but oh God, her palms were so sweaty, that would be _weird._ Amity’s eyes flew open (when had she closed them?) and all she saw was Willow, close enough that Amity could have counted the faint, almost invisible freckles that dotted her cheeks had her blood not been set to boil because Willow was _still kissing her_ and it was nothing like what she had imagined, and so much better—and then Willow pulled back, leaving Amity blinking, dumbfounded, her lips tingling and her pulse pounding in her ears. 

“Ami? Shit, I’m sorry, was that too…” Willow hastily removed the hand she had planted on Amity’s thigh. Amity kind of wanted to grab it and put it back, which was an _utterly insane thing to think._ “Did I make you uncomfortable?” Concern twisted her brow, but it was the note of guilt in Willow's voice, like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t allowed to, that broke Amity from her trance. 

“No!” Amity blurted out, louder than she’d intended. “No, that was… really nice,” she continued, a blush darkening her cheeks even as she did. _Really nice? Seriously?_ “I just, um. Didn’t know what to do with my hands, and then I got kind of in my head about it, and… yeah.” Willow seemed satisfied, at least, letting out a tiny sigh of relief and offering Amity a smile. She leaned back, though only barely, which gave Amity some much-needed room to think. 

And that should have been that, right? Amity knew what kissing was like now, more or less. She could thank Willow for always being such a great friend, and Willow would say "I know," and Amity could put more than six inches of distance between them again—at least enough that she couldn't feel her body heat, or be tempted to look down at her lips, wondering if Willow's felt the same. 

"Can we do that again?" Amity said instead. "So I can not freak out this time." 

"Um.” Willow blinked at her, clearly not expecting that, and for a second, Amity was plunged into a sea of regret. She had been too impulsive, too eager, too _greedy,_ and now it would all come crashing down—but then Willow relaxed, smiled, and tucked a scrap of hair that had escaped her ponytail back behind her ear. “Yeah, of course." She looked at Amity, almost as if sizing her up, and some crazy part of Amity thought Willow was going to lean in and kiss her again on the spot. 

"Here, hold up,” Willow said instead. “Lemme move you a bit, so you can get closer—that way I won't have to like, lean on your thigh like that." 

"Oh," Amity said, more than a little disappointed, before realizing that "audibly disappointed" was a pretty weird way to sound about that and hastening to explain—or rather, to try and make it come across as anything other than _I was really hoping you would touch me some more._ "I mean, yeah, of course. Where do you want me?" 

_Oh, stupendous job, Blight._

“Where do I want you?” Willow asked, raising an eyebrow at Amity. “My, my, Ami, at least take a girl to dinner first.” 

“You’re a demon, you know that?” Amity said, not even pretending to mean it. The heat in her face was just the temperature, obviously. It’s not like she would take Willow’s dumb jokes seriously. “Also, that line kinda loses its effectiveness when you kissed me like, thirty seconds ago.” Willow snorted. 

“Fair enough.” 

“Okay, but actually—how am I supposed to get closer?” Amity’s knees were already bumping up against her friend’s. She supposed she could sit _next_ to Willow and be closer that way, but that didn’t seem particularly conducive to kissing. 

“Up!” Willow made an upwards shooing motion with her hands. “On your knees, Blight.” God, did she _have_ to say it like that? The sharp grin was just… unfair. Amity complied, rising shakily to her knees, the fresh air a comfort where her legs had been folded under her. 

Willow shifted her position, too, though not to get up. She tucked her legs neatly beneath her, looking almost like she was knelt in prayer, then looked up at Amity. Her smile, sharp and confident mere moments ago, had been replaced with something a bit more earnest, even shy. 

“C’mere,” Willow said softly. She crooked a finger towards herself in an unmistakable gesture, then patted her thighs. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Amity blinked. 

“You want me to—sit on your lap?” Logically, this shouldn't have been a big deal. Amity had sat on Willow's lap for almost thirty minutes on the bus ride home last Friday, when Willow had refused to respect the sacred rite of dibs for the last open seat. Logic, however, seemed to have gone out the window the moment Willow kissed her, and now the thought of being that close sent a shiver down Amity’s back despite the eighty degree heat.

“Well, I was thinking more ‘straddling my legs,’ but whatever floats your boat.” Amity didn’t choke, splutter, or otherwise embarrass herself at that, but it was a close thing. Her throat felt dry just hearing those words, how the hell did Willow _say_ stuff like that without blinking an eye?

Except… if Amity stopped for just a moment and observed, maybe Willow wasn’t as unaffected as she had thought. They were the sort of details you only started to pick up after spending so much time with someone you could recognize their breathing—stuff like the subtle tap of a finger against the bed, the tiniest shift in the timbre of her voice—but they were there.

“If that’s cool with you, of course,” Willow added hastily. “I just thought it’d be more comfortable than me leaning on you.” While Amity had not minded Willow leaning on her in the slightest, that felt like a bit much to put into words at the moment, so she just nodded.

“It’s cool with me,” Amity said, trying to borrow some of her friend’s nonchalance. “Should I just…”

“Whenever you’re ready.” 

And that was how Amity ended up practically sitting on her best friend’s lap, her knees bracketing her hips, every point of contact between them a tiny sun. If the room had felt hot before, Amity was melting, now. She was trying not to put too much of her weight on Willow’s legs, remaining upright on not at all shaky knees, with partial success. 

Willow had guided Amity in with a hand on her side, instructing her to swing a leg over her own so she could get in nice and close. And there her hand had stayed, fingers curled loosely around Amity’s hip, radiating heat through the thin fabric of her shirt that sent her pulse racing. 

Amity had read once, through some trivia tidbit or psychological study, that looking down on someone from a point of elevation put you in a position of superiority. At the moment, she was finding that to be the complete opposite of the truth. Willow may have had to tilt her head up to meet her eyes, but Amity felt like she was melting under her gaze, her hands placed on her friend’s shoulders the only thing keeping her steady. 

"So… what now?" Amity murmured. With mere inches separating them, volume became unnecessary. The gentle implication of words was enough; anything more threatened to dispel the magic that hung in the air. 

“Now…” Willow’s voice, when she spoke, was slow and deliberate, a languid drawl that sent a thrill of anticipation down Amity's spine. Golden eyes met green. There was something lurking in Willow’s gaze, something that Amity didn’t dare give name to but caused her breath to catch in her chest regardless, that nameless fire igniting something in her in turn. Time may as well have crawled to a still; the world outside her bedroom fading to irrelevance as Amity waited, her heart in her throat, for Willow’s next words. 

"All I have to do to kiss you… is this." 

And before she could so much as blink, Willow reached up, hooked a finger into the collar of Amity’s shirt, and tugged her down into a kiss. 

It was nothing like Amity's fumbling peck on the mouth, or even the slow, gentle kiss Willow had given her earlier. This was all heat and passion, a brilliant supernova, a signal flare that Amity could have seen from space. It was the hand that now held a fistful of Amity's shirt collar, the occasional tug pulling her impossibly closer as Willow shifted beneath her. It was the airy sigh that might have come from either of them when the kiss was broken by the necessity of breath and the tidal wave of warmth that crashed over Amity, suffusing every inch of her with a glowing contentment, when she leaned back in and was met halfway. 

It was the thrill that ran through her, settling in her gut and smoldering like a dying coal, when the hand resting lightly on her hip became a firm grip. 

It was Willow’s thighs underneath her, it was the palm on her side, it was freckled shoulders under her own two hands—it was touch, once casual, now laden with intent. Actions repeated dozens of times over without a second thought in days past, lent a fragile intimacy that made Amity’s breath catch in her chest. 

Something so precious had no right to exist within these walls. It was anathema to the cold marble tiles and high ceilinged hallways that swallowed all sound that had defined her childhood. 

It was a haven, carved by tooth and nail from unforgiving stone, and Amity could imagine nothing more perfect. 

So it was only natural, then—like heat rising, like the tide reaching for the shore—that one kiss turned into two. That two became several, that between soft smiles and whispered _‘is this okay’_ s, with noses bumping together and glasses haphazardly discarded, between breathless giggles and fingers tangled in slightly sweaty hair, ruined ponytails and a blooming, unfurling thing in her chest that blazed like a newborn star… Amity lost count. The pretense of practice slipped from her mind like a half-forgotten dream, leaving only a livewire current of emotion that arced towards one destination. 

Willow. Her anchor, her heart, her best friend, found and lost and found again. In the space between seconds, one single, endless moment, Amity realized something. It was a revelation that should have shaken her to her core, the enormity of it breathtaking, yet it slotted into her heart like there had been a place waiting for it all along. 

_She didn’t want this to end._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! kudos and comments fuel my rarepair-loving heart :3c


End file.
